


What happens in Vegas (stays in Vegas?)

by SolarSquare



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Marriage, However that works, I have no idea, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, im leaving the tags at this for now, no beta we die like barricade boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:54:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24029215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarSquare/pseuds/SolarSquare
Summary: something I quickly wrote ha...an imagining of what might happen with these guys in Las Vegas
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Kudos: 9





	What happens in Vegas (stays in Vegas?)

**Author's Note:**

> idk, i might regret posting this, but i've had it in my head for long and yeah these times... they change you

When Enjolras woke up that morning, he slowly became aware of cars driving past on the big highway, the never-ending sound effects of a city with never-ending possibilities. The sound of everyday Las Vegas. 

Then the throbbing in his head got louder, and he gripped his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes as well. It wasn't that he'd never gotten drunk before (though it was a rare occasion), but there had never been a time that his hangover had been quite as terrible as now. His head was thudding so hard that he couldn't even open his eyes. And it annoyed him that he'd let himself go last night, and was completely wrecked now as a result. 

_It better was a fucking amazing night_ , he thought, hoping to God that he wasn't the one of his friends to end up being dumped in a random bed at two a.m. But then a vague memory resurfaced of either Bossuet or Bahorel carrying an already completely gone Marius up the stairs, as all the others were waiting to continue the celebration of Enjolras' birthday. 

It had been a surprise for him; _some_ had had the intentions of giving him a great gift, such as Combeferre and Jehan, whereas _others_ (everyone else with maybe the exception of Marius) had just wanted to get Enjolras drunk in Vegas and go there themselves. It had been so out of nowhere that Enjolras cancelled his parents' small celebration. It made him feel quite bad, but both Courfeyrac and Grantaire had assured him that they would understand. "Las Vegas just has the upper hand in anything," Grantaire had explained. Courfeyrac had agreed. 

So they'd gone. And drunk a fuck ton. 

And now Enjolras was experiencing the worst hangover of his life, lying on his back and his eyes close, too afraid of the sudden light when he'd open them. He arched his back to stretch himself a bit. Maybe it would even be enough to eventually motivate him to move. When he tried to stretch his arms, his left arm hit something, 

or someone. 

_What the fuck!_ Enjolras was suddenly wide awake. For a moment, he had to stare at the ceiling to get adjusted to the light. He immediately reached for his phone in his pocket, because as long as he had a phone everything would turn out fine. And to his relief he indeed still had his phone with him, but when he fished it out to call Combeferre, he noticed something: the fabric of whatever trousers he was wearing was smooth, soft and most definitely not jeans-fabric. 

He wasn't wearing the same clothes anymore. And then and there Enjolras knew that he had fucked up. 

His eyes had finally gotten used to the morning light, and he rolled his head to the left to find out who was in bed with him. And what he saw was the last thing he'd expected to see.

Grantaire was lying next to him, rolled on his side, facing Enjolras. He was breathing softly, curls all over his face. Still asleep. Enjolras could only stare at Grantaire in dumb disbelief at first, but as he started becoming more and more awake, he realised just what this could mean. He backed away as far as the bed allowed him before tumbling out of it. He yelped in surprise and took the sheets to the ground with him. A moan of protest came from Grantaire, and Enjolras felt weak hands tugging at the blanket.

"R," he asked, "are you awake?" 

In response, he got a "hmm" from Grantaire, who snatched the blanket and curled himself up in what he managed to pull back onto the bed. Enjolras carefully sat up, and tried to ignore the sharp sting in his head. He put two fingers to his temples and massaged them, looking for memories of last night. 

He was drawing a complete blank. He could only remember a few things from before they entered the casino: Combeferre and Courfeyrac performing a speech together, a heavy hand clapping him on the shoulder, and of course the countdown to midnight, to initiate his birthday. After that, the real drinking had begun, so everything from there was one big blur. 

Enjolras carefully cast a glance at Grantaire. He was lying on his side, but his eyes had fluttered open and he was staring at Enjolras with a sleepy, glassy gaze. Enjolras' eyes hovered over Grantaire's body, and he thanked whatever god there was to listen to his prayers that Grantaire was not naked. Even though Grantaire too had changed into black trousers and a white blouse with black tie nearly untied from sleep, he wasn't naked, which made the possibility that Enjolras and Grantaire had done some... stuff less likely. And for Enjolras that was for the best. His brain couldn't handle the image of him and Grantaire taking off their clothes for each other.

 _Yet here we are, both in new clothes_

"Do you maybe remember anything that happened," he asked Grantaire "or anything at all?" He wasn't that good a drinker, but Grantaire surely had such a good toleration by now that not even all the bars in Vegas could provide him with enough to get drunk. Enjolras hoped so.

Grantaire yawned and shifted to a sitting position.Enjolras looked around for a moment, and only then did he notice that their room was a complete mess. There were glasses and bottles everywhere. Enjolras secretly told himself that Grantaire was responsible for all that alcohol, but somehow he knew that he had drunk just as much as Grantaire. No wonder he had no idea of that night. Keeping up with a drinking Grantaire was virtually impossible. 

"Apollo," Grantaire groaned, "it's morning." He rolled his eyes at Enjolras and let himself fall onto the mattress. "Let's settle this when we're both a bit more sober," he muffled into the thick pillows. He patted the bed with his hands, gesturing Enjolras to get in. 

Enjolras sighed and crossed his arms. Typical Grantaire to just sleep his problems off, hoping it will be gone when he wakes up. 

"Grantaire, get up," he hissed.

A soft mumble came from the pillow. Enjolras couldn't understand it, so he leaned a bit towards the bed. "Excuse me?" 

"Told you to fuck off," Grantaire repeated. There was no spite behind it, just a simple statement. And he didn't say anything anymore.

"Get up." 

"No." 

"We're in a room that we both are not booked in." 

Grantaire lifted his head and lazily smiled at Enjolras. "Well, let's enjoy it until we get kicked out." He caressed the soft blankets and gestured around himself: "I mean, I don't think we'll ever get in rooms like this one ever again." 

Thanks to his gesturing, Grantaire accidentally swept the blankets off of the bed. His face immediately contorted into disappointment. And Enjolras suddenly felt his face heat up, and his pulse seemed to beat a little quicker. 

He'd seen Grantaire in a suit before, but it never really seemed to fit with Grantaire's carefree and somewhat baggy personality. However, sleep had changed the look; with the half-open blouse, loosened tie and his hair in the curly mess it always was, Grantaire looked at ease. And lying in that bed, sleepy. Enjolras wasn't one to deny that Grantaire really looked hot at that moment, say what you want about his face. 

But then he thought about the fact that Grantaire wouldn't wear this, and that he was also wearing a suit he didn't own and _oh god what if we actually-_

"-pollo? Hello?" Enjolras jerked his head up to look at Grantaire, waving at him. He quickly composed himself and answered: "Sorry, what did you say?" 

Grantaire chuckled. "What's the matter, Apollo? Bit hungover, aren't we?" He smirked at Enjolras. Despite his sleepiness, he was always ready to torment Enjolras at any moment. 

Enjolras rubbed his temples again; he felt the first signs of a headache coming. "Stop calling me that," he complained out of habit. It wasn't as if Grantaire would ever stop, but he'd gotten so used to saying it that he now did it anyways. "Doesn't matter, I don't know what happened last night, but we're both in different clothes in a twin bed and I- I just wanna know what you still remember," he said. He felt exhausted and his head was throbbing. Maybe Grantaire was right and they should just lie in bed for a while. _Just a few hours..._

He suddenly felt very light-headed. And then he felt himself falling backward. He could barely take a step back and find his balance again the first time, but he stumbled the next time and hit his back on a desk -desk? maybe a cupboard?- making it impossible to keep himself standing. Enjolras barely caught himself with his hands, gripping the edges of the cupboard. He squeezed his eyes shut to stop the world from spinning for one goddamn moment so that he could get on his feet again.

"Oh shit," he could hear Grantaire's voice come from the bed. Next, there was some shuffling and stumbling followed by a string of curses and two hands gripping him on his shoulders. "Enj, you alright?" He did ask the last part with genuine concern, but from the amused tone Enjolras could tell that Grantaire was having fun. He groaned and combed a hand through his hair. His curls were in tangles.

"No, I'm not. We're sleeping in a hotel room together, not in our own clothes, by the way. You don't remember anything, I don't remember anything." He was trying to keep his voice cool and calm, but his usual collected self was falling apart. He saw Grantaire stare at him, still tired. Why was Grantaire so blurry? He shook his head, hoping it would go away, but it only gave him nausea. He lurched forward, and he felt bile rising in his throat. _Oh shit_ , he thought. He was going to puke. He still kept it in, in an attempt to save Grantaire's clean trousers. 

Grantaire was apparently thinking of the same thing. With a panicked and unceremonious move, he pushed Enjolras on his feet. "Go! Go to the bathroom!" he screamed. The sudden move sparked even more nausea in Enjolras, and he dashed to the bathroom. He could just barely reach the toilet before he doubled over and shamefully gave in.

Never in his entire life had he felt so miserable as he felt at that moment. He was tired, sick, grumpy and confused and he wasn't sure just what was happening. From behind him, Grantaire was rubbing circles on his back, but still made noises of disgust. "Jesus Christ."

And after what felt like hours, Enjolras finally felt good enough to sit up straight, shaking and coughing on the floor. The terrible taste of alcohol mixed with vomit lingered in his mouth, and he almost threw up again. With a hand clasped over his mouth, he turned to Grantaire. 

"Thanks asshole," he groaned at Grantaire. 

All he got back was a scoff. Grantaire seemed sorely unimpressed. "Well, what did you expect? I don't want to be puked on. God, Enjolras, what the hell did you have?" 

"You know you could've just gently helped me, so that I had the time to get ready for it," Enjolras replied. "But no," he exasperatedly said, "you just had to fucking shove me. Now we have to clean this up, as if there isn't already enough shit going on!" 

"Don't be such a baby," Grantaire pinched his nose and had his eyes closed. To block out the smell or to clear his head, Enjolras did not know. "We have to clean anyway." He then opened his eyes and gestured to the room: "I mean, look at this. And this isn't even our room." 

That brought Enjolras back to his original concern. He straightened himself a bit and backed away from the vomit. His clothes were mostly spared, but the sour smell was horrible. Carefully, he went into a standing position and tried to mat his curls a bit. Grantaire was carefully eyeing him. 

Enjolras looked back at Grantaire and urged his question again: "Do you remember how we ended up in this suit together?" He asked again. 

"I have no fucking clue." Grantaire fidgeted with the tie around his neck, loosening it even more. "I still remember that Courfeyrac and Combeferre were making bank in one of the casinos." He looked at the ceiling, trying to get more memories to surface. "I think Bahorel got arrested or something? And Marius got drugged and had to be carried to his room." At the mention of Marius, a small smile played on his lips.

"I remember that too," Enjolras commented. Grantaire still knew more than him, but it wasn't much nevertheless. "And after that? Anything?" 

Grantaire threaded his fingers through his curls. "I don't really think so," he admitted. "Maybe if I give it some time to recover." 

He sounded as if he was at a loss, and Enjolras could easily understand that there were probably no memories to be recovered. Grantaire had no doubt drunk far too much. _Oh god, why are we sleeping in the same bed._

"R, I really don't know anything, but... do you think we," he hesitated, "you know..." he gestured to the bed, too ashamed to actually say the words 'slept together' out loud.

"We banged?" Grantaire helpfully supported. He put his hands on his temples. "I'm not sure. But I honestly don't think so." 

Enjolras just stared at him. The answer wasn't very satisfying for him. "Well, how do we find out?" 

Grantaire stared back at him with tired eyes. "Please, Apollo. Why do you even care so much? We'll just forget this, never talk about it again." He was threading his hand through his hair, trying to untangle it. 

His casualness aggravated Enjolras. "How can you just brush it off like this? Don't you want to know what the fuck is going on?" 

"I'm not sure if I do," Grantaire answered. "And it's honestly not exactly revolutionary that I can't remember the things I did when I was drunk." He grinned at Enjolras. "After all, I'm not you, remember? I don't fuss over every little thing."

"That's-" Enjolras started, but he found himself not knowing what to say back. His entire head was giving him hell, which made every bit of thinking harder. He slumped against the bathroom wall. Grantaire carefully eyed him. 

"You okay there?"

Enjolras groaned. "Just a headache. I can't think like this." He gripped his head in frustration. Grantaire was still watching him, he could tell. God, it was embarrassing to be such a mess in front of Grantaire of all people. He would never hear the end of this. Maybe he should just get back to sleep and forget everything. 

There was some shuffling in front of him. Curious, Enjolras opened his eyes, and he could see Grantaire carefully, very carefully standing up. Before he could stand up straight, his knees gave out. He quickly tucked his head between his legs and breathed heavily. When he looked up again and caught Enjolras quietly observing him, he softly smiled. "I have low blood pressure, makes it hard to stand up." 

"Is that so?" Enjolras teased, "or are you just unwilling to admit you're a bit hungover? The great Grantaire?" 

He grinned at Grantaire, who was smiling back at him. But his own smile quickly faltered as another wave of nausea hit him. 

Grantaire rubbed his temples as well, but when Enjolras was lurching forward again he jumped back and sighed. "Why don't you just stay in the bathroom to do whatever you need to do," he suggested, "and I'll go looking for clues as to what happened." 

Enjolras nodded, covering his mouth with his hand. 

Grantaire watched him, and even though he was sure Enjolras was overreacting, he still felt a tiny bit of pity when he saw the fierce leader in red in such a state. 

Grantaire tried to stand up again. More carefully this time, he managed to stand up straight and keep himself on his feet. Smiling at the small victory, he forced himself to take a few seconds to get rid of the throbbing in his head.

_God I feel like shit._

Agonisingly slowly, he took a step forward, and soon he was examining the room, looking for used condoms or clothes thrown off or anything that would confirm his biggest dream and greatest nightmare at the same time. In the background he could hear Enjolras turning on the tap, along with a string of noises of discontent. He rolled his eyes. Enjolras was obviously not very used to drinking. He was handling it terribly so far, and Grantaire's patience also had its limits. 

The more he examined the suit, the more convinced he became that nothing had actually happened between him and Enjolras. It was such a relief that he almost wanted to just crawl back into bed, but he couldn't. There was still something going on; the suits, him and Enjolras ending up in an unbooked room. 

_Maybe this is just one of Courf's amazing ideas_ , he briefly wondered. Typically Courfeyrac to set Grantaire up in a scenario with Enjolras which would absolutely make it harder for Grantaire to act straight. One relief was that Enjolras didn't remember anything, so if Grantaire had confessed or done something similarly self-destructive, at least there was no one there to bring it up. 

_Speaking of Courf..._ Grantaire thought. He should try to call Courfeyrac and ask what he did this time. This had to be Courfeyrac's doing, he always did this kind of shit. Grantaire quickly slid his hand into his pocket to fish his phone out, but then he realised that there was nothing in his pockets, or at least not in the ones of these fancy trousers he was wearing at that moment. 

_Oh fuck_ , he thought. He frantically searched the pockets of a jacket lying on the floor, and then yanked the bedsheets off of the bed. No phone. _Oh fucking Christ!_

Grantaire felt a shock light up inside him. Where the hell was his phone! Had he lost it? God, what if he'd left it somewhere? He couldn't afford a new one! How was he going to keep contact with his teachers and partners during projects? 

It only made it worse that he had no idea where to begin looking. _No_ , he told himself, _don't go assuming things_. He laid himself on the bed to collect his thoughts. He was having a heart attack, or that was what it felt like. But panicking wouldn't solve it. He had to stop himself from making up worst-case scenario's. And after a minute of lying down, looking at the ceiling and ignoring the loud noises coming from the bathroom, where Enjolras had turned on the shower and was waiting for it to go hot -which he let Grantaire know by cursing at the cold water every now and then-, Grantaire got up and started searching around again in the mess. 

There wasn't much to see. A million bottles, sure, but that wouldn't really tell what happened here. Grantaire was looking for normal clothes, because if those weren't here where the hell were they? He was pretty sure that his wallet was still in his jacket, so getting that back would be nice. 

He walked through the room to what he assumed to be a minibar, now completely empty except for the cokes usually used for mixing. Grantaire clicked his tongue at the mixing coke. Mixing was for amateurs. Apparently even Enjolras had refused to use them. But then his eyes caught sight of a rather strange sight; a piece of paper folded into a plane, in a bottle- empty, of course- lying on one of the stages of the mini bar. Grantaire stared at it for a moment and wondered just what the hell he and Enjolras had been trying to achieve by this, but in the end, he shrugged and picked up the bottle from the bar. Without thinking, he threw it across the room, into one of the walls, and watched it shatter into shards.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" Enjolras yelled from the bathroom, startled. Grantaire didn't answer. He would deal with that later, but now, he had better things to do. That was one of the things Grantaire did when he was drunk or hungover: he would set dead focus on one task, or one thing, and wouldn't react to anything until he finished it. And now that was the case as well, because he was curious what the paper would say. 

In two strides he was standing in the middle of glass shards, and he very carefully stepped in the spaces between the glass shards to avoid getting himself cut. It was hard, since he staggered and lost his balance from time to time, but in the end he managed to find a place to stand where he could reach the paper without slicing his feet open. He crouched down and snatched the paper from the ground. Before he read it, he made his way over to the bed and sat himself down on it once again. Then, he unfolded the plane.

And Grantaire was still hungover when he read it, which was why he wasn't really paying attention. All he checked at first were the things written on it with a pen. 

There were two paragraphs, the first was starting with Enjolras' full name, twice, then his birth date and the name of some odd town. The paragraph was ended with the full name of Combeferre, scribbled down and barely readable. Grantaire stiffled a laugh. Combeferre had had clear problems with signing it. Still half-laughing, he continued to the second paragraph. And this was where it went wrong. 

At first he only read the name Enjolras, and he thought nothing of it. He only wanted to sleep, and despite his curiosity he thought that it was actually all okay now that he was pretty sure he and Enjolras didn't take it anywhere. But when he continued to the second line, it read his full name. And that was confusing, because why would this paragraph feature two different names, while the first only had Enjolras' name.

Confused, Grantaire's eyes flew up to the line above, and he read the full name: 

_René Enjolras._

His breath caught in his throat. René was his name, and he knew Enjolras didn't have the same name as him. And then, he finally bothered to actually take a good look at the paper. The change of surname. The names of Combeferre for Enjolras and Courfeyrac for him signed underneath their names. And then he put two and two together. The suits, the big deluxe suit, this paper, that strangely resembled a marriage act.

 _Oh fuck_ , he thought, _it can't be_. 

With dread, he read the title of the paper. _Marriage act._

"Fuck!" It was the only word he could come up with to describe the situation. He was at a loss of words, and that was the only thing he could say. "Fuck!" he yelled again, letting himself fall down on the bed. He scanned the piece of paper again, trying to find some mistake or maybe a translation that just wasn't correct on his part, but when he skimmed through the text again, he couldn't deny it. 

He'd managed to make his one night in Vegas simultaneously the best and worst night ever without even remembering it. 

"Grantaire?" Enjolras called from the shower. "What's the matter?" 

Grantaire ran a hand through his hair. _It's okay, just take a few deep breaths. Oh my God how am I gonna explain this? What are we gonna do about it?_ And then, he trailed off into the 'how did I get Enjolras to agree to this'-territory. But in the end, he still had no answer. 

"R?" Enjolras yelled again, this time a lot more hesitant, "are you okay?"

 _What do I say?_ Grantaire panicked. He could choose between beating around the bush and subtly introduce it or just being blunt and telling Enjolras that they were married and all. Neither options were really desirable. Still, he figured that he was Grantaire, and being blunt was, if anything, his charm. So he called back: "I'm fine. We're married." 

At that, the shower stopped. 

"What?" 

"I said we're married?"

"WHAT!"

"We're-" 

"I fucking heard you! But what do you mean we're married?" Enjolras shrieked back. There was some shuffling in the shower. Grantaire assumed Enjolras would let the shower slide for now. And he was right, because not even a minute later Apollo burst through the door, his suit hastily thrown back on. It was the wild gaze in his eyes as he stormed towards Grantaire that probably finished the look. Grantaire could barely tear his eyes away at the sight. 

"Well, as in husband and husband. I'm guessing this is a wedding suit," he added. "The good news is, I don't think we've slept together, in that sense." He held up the piece of paper for Enjolras to see. "See, we have a marriage act and all."

Enjolras snatched it out of Grantaire's hand without even a word, feverishly reading it. Grantaire could see the cogs in his head turn, both thanks to the somewhat difficult situation and Enjolras' lacking English skills. With every line, his brow furrowed deeper into a frown, and when he'd apparently finished reading, he immediately looked up at Grantaire. "Combeferre and Courfeyrac?"

"Yeah," Grantaire awkwardly answered, "I guess they are our witnesses." 

Enjolras skimmed over it again. Then another gaze at Grantaire. 

"Holy shit."

"Yeah, you took the words out of my mouth." Grantaire answered, unable to think of anything to say because of course was he the guy that ended up married the moment he couldn't remember anything, and of course was he friends with people who would totally agree with his idiotic ideas (this usually only applied for Courfeyrac, though, and Grantaire was still wondering just what had happened to Combeferre to agree with this). He looked up at Enjolras, his husband now, and just thought of what to say. 

Before he could even bring out one word, Enjolras stormed right past him to the door. 

Grantaire watched him for a moment before his head started working again. He sprinted to Enjolras as the man in question threw the door open and entered the corridor. He was already making pace, but Grantaire managed to grab his arm before he could stalk off and pulled him back into the room. Enjolras seemed too baffled to even protest. As soon as they were both in, Grantaire slammed the door behind him. He crossed his arms and shot Enjolras a look. "And may I ask what you were going to do?" 

Enjolras stared at him as if he was completely crazy. He threw his hands up in the air. "We need to get a divorce!"

Grantaire tried his best to ignore how weird that sounded. And despite the situation, he broke into a grin.

"And your plan is running into Vegas with no idea where to go, without telling anyone? Also, Enjolras, you cannot survive in an English country without anyone to help you." 

"Well, that means you're coming along," Enjolras matter-of-factly stated before trying to shove Grantaire aside and walk through the door. His only ended up bringing himself out of balance and nearly falling again. Grantaire just barely caught him, and he couldn't even try to stop himself from laughing. Soon enough he was tearing up from it. "Nice going, Apollo. Can't wait to see you set up a court for divorce." 

Enjolras limply hung in his arms. He had his face buried in Grantaire's sleeve, and muffled: "You're not helping, you know?" 

Grantaire grinned and hoisted Enjolras on his feet again. It was quite ironic; getting married to Enjolras, having Enjolras in his arms. Those were things he'd dreamt of. And here he was, only feeling slightly amused and hopelessly wondering what was going on. When Enjolras looked self-sufficient enough to keep himself upright, he told him: "There's a few things I want to do first. I lost my phone." 

Enjolras was already opening his mouth, and Grantaire knew what he was going to say, so he took his chance to stop the words from leaving Enjolras' mouth: "And yes, I find my phone way more important than settling this shit right now. It was expensive, okay? So if you could just call me so we can check whether it's here or if someone else has it."

Enjolras nodded and fished his phone out of his pocket. But while he scrolled through his contacts, he still said it. "You have interesting priorities."

"You say that because you still have your phone. And the money to buy a new one, had you lost it." 

Enjolras looked up at him with dull eyes and put his phone on speaker. "I don't have that money. My parents wouldn't give it to me." 

The phone went over, and Grantaire watched Enjolras' phone. "Shut up, Apollo. It's your birthday. Your parents were probably planning on giving you a villa."

Enjolras was about to answer, but before he could a loud noise came through. Grantaire looked down at Enjolras' phone, and could see that it was dialling. He nervously asked: "Hello? Is there anyone there?"

For a moment, it remained quiet on the other side of the phone. Then Grantaire heard a familiar voice say in French: "Christ, Ferre. Come help me, it's one of those phishing people." 

Before even thinking for a moment, Grantaire realised who was speaking. He grabbed the phone out of Enjolras' hands. "COURFEYRAC!" he yelled, "you fucking asshole you stole my phone!" 

Enjolras' lip curled into a smile as Courfeyrac made a noise of confusion. Then, he whined: "R, please don't yell. My head is exploding. Why the hell are you calling yourself?" 

"Because someone stole my phone!" Grantaire answered. He shot a side glance at Enjolras, who giving him a look of 'you remember that other thing?'. Grantaire shrugged at him in return and instead asked Courfeyrac: "Are you with Ferre? I need a voice of reason." 

There was some shuffling, and then Combeferre's tired voice came on the line. "What's wrong Grantaire?" he asked in a most unwilling voice. "If it's just your phone, you can come get it. Courf and I are in-" 

"No that's not just it," Enjolras interrupted him, rather angrily. "Ferre, what the hell happened last night? Why are R and I married!" 

_Well, he's not beating around the bush is he?_ Grantaire thought. He held the phone and waited for the words to come through to Combeferre. He could almost see the confusion on his face as he desperately tried to recall yesterday night. 

"I don't remember that happening." 

In the background, he could hear Courfeyrac burst into laughing. "Oh yeah," he laughed, "now that you mention it." 

Grantaire suddenly got a weary feeling; if there was anything Courfeyrac liked to do, it was trying (mercilessly) to get Grantaire to confess his love for Enjolras. In return, Grantaire did the same with Courfeyrac and Combeferre. Usually they both had little success, but apparently Courfeyrac had done a pretty amazing job. 

He frantically whispered in the phone: "Courf, please. Are you just fucking with us? Did you just steal a marriage act and fill it in or something?" He refused to believe that Courfeyrac had actually taken their game that far. 

He wondered whether Courfeyrac would actually be that shitty. This, this fucking mess, would probably have really bad consequences on his already barren friendship with Enjolras. 

Courfeyrac remained quiet on the other end of the line. The ten seconds of silence were nerve-wrecking. Grantaire heard Courfeyrac softly discussing with Combeferre: 

"Hey Ferre, was that guy we hired an actual priest or just some random guy?" 

"Courf, I have no idea. I don't recall any of this." 

Courfeyrac muttered something along the lines of 'well try recalling it' and then addressed Grantaire again. "I'm not sure, probably though." 

Grantaire wasn't easily angry at Courfeyrac, but if he'd ever felt like punching him in the face, it was now. "Well what do we do now!" he yelled into the phone.

"How should I know? You two are the ones who married each other." 

"You and Ferre were our witnesses!" Enjolras exasperatedly stated. "Why did you sign the marriage act?" 

"At the time, it really sounded like a good idea," Courfeyrac replied in a kind of shameful voice. "Also, you two seemed really into it." 

Grantaire felt his neck go hot. He could only thank everything that Courfeyrac had said 'you two'. Because he was pretty sure that he would be pretty excited about marrying Enjolras, especially when he was drunk, and that Enjolras would just go with it. The embarrassment reeling over him made him completely at a loss of words. He couldn't say anything, and he sure as hell couldn't look Enjolras in the eye now. 

Combeferre, as always, took the exact moment to save him. "Why don't you two just come here and we discuss this face to face. Settle it, get a divorce and whatnot?"

Courfeyrac snickered. "Should we? I mean, they already kinda were like a married couple." 

"Courfeyrac shut up." 

At that, Courfeyrac backed down, still laughing a bit, and Combeferre turned his attention back to Enjolras and Grantaire. "We're just in our room. You can make it here?"

"Yeah, on our way," Grantaire said. Enjolras, at the same time, answered: "We'll be there in ten minutes." 

"Alright, see you then!" And Combeferre hung up.

Grantaire stared at Enjolras' phone in his hands, still not able to wrap his head around the situation. He handed it to Enjolras, who stuck it in his pocket. His thoughts were racing at the speed of light. 

_Just start with your phone_ , he 'calmly' instructed himself, _don't think about Apollo, that'll come later. Phone first, baby steps._

He looked at Enjolras. "Are you ready to go?" 

Enjolras nodded. "You too?" 

"I need to get some shoes," Grantaire told him. He looked down. "You should get some as well, by the way." 

Enjolras stared at his feet, and slowly nodded. He then grabbed his head in annoyance. "Just one night in Vegas, and this happens. Why can't things just go right for once?" he whined. Grantaire huffed and shrugged. You tell me Apollo.

Just one night in Vegas, and he managed to do everything wrong. Now they had to find out what happened, what they were going to do, how they were going to get a divorce, whether they could even get a divorce...

 _Just go to Combeferre for now_ , he told himself. He banned the last thought from his mind. For now, it was better not to think about that.

**Author's Note:**

> ha it's too late to care im going to sleep, guess i'll update this sometime soon! xx


End file.
